


Keeping It Together

by julienwrites



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, mentions of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julienwrites/pseuds/julienwrites
Summary: Patrick Brewer is the master of composure. Until he bolts in the middle of ringing up a customer.AKA Patrick gets a migraine and it goes about as well as you'd expect.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 3
Kudos: 164





	Keeping It Together

**Author's Note:**

> Patrick gets a migraine, and it goes about as well as you'd expect. Set sometime in season 6. 
> 
> There are mentions of vomiting toward the end of the fic, but it doesn't go into detail at all. 
> 
> Come find me @lickrustdavid to give me prompts or just talk about Schitt's Creek with me. Also a very happy birthday to Noah Reid. Without him Patrick wouldn't be the Patrick we know and love.

David’s waiting outside the cafe, frowning as he checks his phone and sees it’s two minutes past eight. He’s come from the motel, having spent the night helping Alexis with Ted things, and it had been nice. They’d done facials and caught each other up on different things they’d not had the time for lately. Patrick had texted him last night they could meet up at the cafe at eight, grab some breakfast and then head into the store. It’s unlike his fiance to be late, and when it’s almost ten past, David starts wondering if he should call, but then Patrick’s silver car is pulling up and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

Stepping out, the first thing David notices is that Patrick is wearing sunglasses. He hardly ever wears them, and it’s not like the sun is glaring down this early, which makes David feel oddly uneasy. He can’t exactly pinpoint why, maybe it’s just the unusuality of it, coupled with the fact Patrick’s button down isn’t perfectly pressed like it normally is- a few tiny creases that tell David he skipped the ironing today. 

“ _ Hey _ , sorry I’m late, I overslept,” Patrick explains, kissing David’s cheek and opening the door for him. Once inside, David watches as his fiance waits a moment before sliding his sunglasses off and, almost imperceptibly, gives a wince like a flashlight had just been turned on and shown into his face. 

“You  _ never _ oversleep,” David wrinkles his nose, the uneasiness in his stomach growing. “Are you okay? You seem…” he trails off, unable to find the right word. Patrick nods, looking at the menu a moment even though both of them know what they’re getting already. 

“I’m fine, my routine’s just thrown off. I thought I pressed snooze on my phone when it went off, but I actually turned it off,” he laughs a little, grabbing David’s hand. David wants to argue that he usually doesn’t press snooze  _ either _ , but decides not to push it. “How was it with Alexis last night?” 

David squeezes his hand back, foot nudging against his. “It was good. I mean...it’s kind of a  _ total _ mess between her and Ted and trying to figure out what she wants to do with her business. But getting to spend time with her was  _ surprisingly _ nice. We did face masks and gossiped, and there wasn’t any fighting” he grins, shrugging his shoulder. 

“Sounds like you guys miss each other,” Patrick comments, smiling when Twyla walks over. They order their usual- a breakfast plate and orange juice for David, and an oatmeal and tea for Patrick, then continue to talk. David starts letting the knot uncoil in his stomach when Patrick seems normal for the duration of their meal. They’ve come up with a method of paying, going back and forth on the bills unless it’s something special one of them has set up like going to Elmdale for dinner. Patrick pays and thanks Twyla, leaving a five dollar bill on the table for her, before they make their way out. 

The knot in David’s stomach is back when Patrick slips his sunglasses on again before they make it out the door, wrapping an arm around his waist like usual. “Are those new? They look good on you,” David hopes his voice sounds more curious than worried, as they cross the street. 

“ _Hmm_? Oh, no, I’ve had them for a while.” When he doesn’t elaborate, David rolls his eyes a little, thankful Patrick’s looking ahead and not at him. 

That’s one thing about Patrick Brewer- he’s exhaustively  _ good _ . He’s kind and thoughtful and the biggest people pleaser David’s ever met. He’ll put others' needs before his own, wants to make sure everyone is treated equally, will always try to find the good in people. And while it’s something David loves about him, how optimistic, loyal and absolutely pure-hearted he is, it can also be the more frustrating part about him. He tampers down his own problems, locks away any negative emotions, tries to be so put together he’ll end up running himself into the ground or cracking. David knows he’s been working on it, knows he’s more self-aware, but sometimes it’s reflexive and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. 

Getting inside, Patrick takes his glasses off, sets his things down, and excuses himself to the restroom while David starts opening the safe to count the till and make sure it’s balanced at two hundred dollars. He thinks it’s silly, sometimes, that they count both evening and morning, because they both obviously aren’t stealing and they would be alerted if there had been a break in. But it’s all about the principal of the things, and the fact they had to keep a log to turn into the state at the end of every month to show they’re being honest. By the time David’s sliding the till into the register, Patrick walks back from the restroom, hands slightly damp from washing them. 

“We have a few orders coming in today,” he tells David, who looks up and nods. Something seems off, the way Patrick is carrying himself, the way his voice sounds, but he can’t put his finger on exactly what it is. 

“Okay, I’ll start on that then,” David nods, trying to not get too caught up. Obviously if he doesn’t want to tell him, then there’s nothing really major going on. Is he still going to think about it most of the day? Of course. But right now he needs to focus on getting the table ready. The store opens while David does his merchandising, Patrick taking care of the customers that come in. Around ten thirty the new shipment arrives and they crack it open, new scents of candles and bath salts billowing up into the air from the boxes. They start unboxing it all, and from that moment, Patrick seems to be on edge, maybe a little agitated? Or annoyed? _Tense_?

Not sure how he want's to approach it all, David lets him have his space. They start to get bust around noon, two to four people in the store for over an hour. At one point, when David’s letting a few people browse, Patrick walks over. “Have you talked to her?” He gestures to the woman near the back.

“No? I let them browse.” Patrick knows this, and yet-

“Well can you talk to her? She seems like she wants help.” 

“Why aren’t  _ you _ able to do it? I’m working on-” 

“Because I’m already  _ with _ someone David, she’s finishing up.”

David looks at him, glaring slightly. “Fine,” he says, instead of asking what the hell his problem is, or when the stick got shoved up his ass. When he glances over a minute later, Patrick’s finishing up ringing the woman out, putting her things in a bag. At _least_ there’s easily one hundred dollars of merchandise she’s getting. 

When the store slows and is empty, David glances over at Patrick and tries to figure out if he wants to approach the subject right now, but he doesn’t have to. His fiance walks over and sighs. “I’m sorry for getting short with you.” His tone isn’t clipped persay, but it’s definitely not his usual cadence, and David swallows. 

“It’s fine.” If Patrick wants to have an attitude, he can have one too. Distantly, he knows this isn’t how he should handle it, but the other part of him, the selfish part, wins out. 

“...okay,” Patrick walks off, going to dust off shelves.

A couple of minutes later, David’s stomach growls. “Can you go pick up lunch? I’m starving,” he directs over to the front of the store. A look passes over Patrick’s face, one that makes David think he might start arguing, but then he replaces it with a half smile and a nod. He walks out a minute later with his sunglasses perched on his face. What the hell is going on. 

Waiting, David tries to go through the day and recount everything that’s happened. He can’t think of anything to set Patrick off, but maybe he got a text? Maybe something’s wrong with Clint or Marcy? But  _ obviously _ he would tell David...right? Marcy in particular likes him, so it’s not like Patrick wouldn’t feel comfortable. He continues to think until the bell rings again and his other half is carrying a bag with the food. 

“Your food,” he hands David the bag. 

“And...where’s yours?” 

Shrugging, Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets. “Not that hungry.” 

“Are your parents okay?” Is the only thing David can think to say in the moment, which obviously takes Patrick by surprise, as he stops walking and turns around. 

“....yes? Do...did they tell you something?” 

“Oh...no, I just….was wondering,” David flounders, hands gesticulating in the air before he moves to the back room to eat. 

The day continues on, neither of them in a particularly good mood while David continues changing items around. Patrick’s working with a customer, David can hear him starting to ring her up, but then suddenly he’s saying ‘excuse me a moment’ in a foreign voice and David looks up. 

“Can you finish her up please?” His voice is odd, lips barely moving as they set into a thin line. Nodding, absolutely confused, David walks over, apologizing to the woman as Patrick walks toward the back of their store. When the woman walks out, thanking him, he smiles and then flips the sign from open to closed, not caring it’s only slightly past four. Something is  _ wrong _ . 

Walking hesitantly to the bathroom, he freezes when he hears Patrick gagging. Okay, he’s sick. David hadn’t given that idea a thought. Wincing, he hears it go quiet. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t think ‘are you done puking’ is a gentle enough question. David’s still frozen, trying to think, when he hears the toilet flush and Patrick wash his hands. The door opens, Patrick looking a little rough around the edges, and David finally speaks. 

“When were you going to tell me you were sick?” He winces at his own voice, not meaning for it to come out shrill and accusatory. 

“I’m not sick, David,” Patrick walks past him, making him more annoyed. “Why are we closed? It’s not five.” He takes a sip of his water bottle he has at the counter.

“Uhm...what would you call this then?” David gestures to him. “ I closed because I just watched my fiance stop in the  _ middle _ of a transaction to go to the bathroom and puke his guts out, so  _ excuse _ me for being worried!” 

Patrick deflates a little, his tense shoulders dropping. “I have a migraine,” he explains quietly, leaning against the counter. “I don’t normally throw up from them, I think all the different smells and the lights made it worse.” Shifting, he looks at David. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole all day, I just can’t think clearly and it put me on edge. And every time someone started talking it just made it worse. I know it’s not an excuse, and I shouldn’t have acted that w-” 

David moves and pulls Patrick into a hug, holding him tight. It must calm him down, because Patrick drops his head onto his shoulder and breathes out a little. “Honey, you could have just told me. You could have stayed in the back or gone home,” David kisses his head, nails rubbing against his fiance’s back like he knows he likes. 

“Normally I can work through them.” His voice sounds exhausted. David just continues to hug him close. 

“Well, I don’t  _ want _ you to. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re important to me and I need you around to keep me sane. And help the business not tank,” David’s voice is softer now, and when he eventually pulls back, Patrick looks wiped out, brow furrowed in pain. 

“Let’s leave a little early and go home, okay? You should sleep. And don’t argue, you would do the same for me.” He kisses Patrick’s head again and then manhandles him to the back, sitting him down on the couch they have while he goes and gets the till so he can shut everything down. It takes him a little longer than usual, trying to make a conscious effort to be quiet with everything he does, and when he turns to tell Patrick they can leave, he can’t help but grab his phone and snap a photo. 

Patrick’s eyes are closed, chin tucked in against his shoulder, breaths coming even and slow as he sleeps lightly. David gets both of their bags and then crouches down, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Wake up honey, time to go.” 

Eyes fluttering open, Patrick nods, rubbing his face before standing. “Think you’ll make it home?” At the nod he gives, David leads them out and back to the car, ready to get his fiance in bed and start googling migraines to be more prepared for next time. 


End file.
